Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Gone ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: Theirs. Song to be had for, well, a song. Plotbunny mine, the theft of which shall be punished with the removal of your liver through your nose.

A/N: This originally was a school assignment. You can therefore blame my English teacher.

Warnings: Rated PG for death, angst, sap out the wazoo, gore, bad poetry, OOCness, and YAOI.

~ song lyrics ~

Heero's POV.

*~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~*

~ Woke up this morning-all alone

Woke up this morning-all alone

No more listening to him piss and moan

Woke up this morning-all alone

Made breakfast this morning-by myself

Made breakfast this morning-by myself

His favorite mug stayed on the shelf

Made breakfast this morning-by myself

Spent the rest of the day-without him

Spent the rest of the day-without him

Whole damn day was so very grim

Spent the rest of the day-without him

Never gonna see his smile 'round here

Never gonna see his smile 'round here

He went and put a gun to his ear

Never gonna see his smile 'round here. ~

I smile at the song. It is not a happy smile. It has been one year to the day since Duo blew his brains out his ear in Deathscythe Hell. One year since I last saw him alive. One year since I realized what a sick bastard I am. Everyone else is at his grave, marked only by a "X" on a hand-drawn map and a crooked cross carved into a sycamore. Not even a name.

I am not there. That is not his true grave. I am at Deathscythe Hell, which has not been moved. It has not even been cleaned. Blood and brains still cover the controls. To a sane mind, it is a gruesome sight. But I am no longer within gunshot of sanity.

I touch a dried bit of brain, wondering what purpose it served. Did it make his mouth smile perpetually? Did it enjoy the coffee he drank every morning? Did it brush and braid the long brown ponytail? Did it slice the thermal scythe through enemy MS or did it sneak his feet silently through OZ bases?

Did it kiss me and tell me he loved me?

It does not matter anymore. He is gone, and it is all my fault. I climb into the pilots chair, which is somehow free of blood and gore. I pull something out of my shorts and look at it. "Omae o korosu," I whisper, the words I used for so many purposes. I will kill you. I hate you. You are being annoying. Don't you dare. I speak Japanese.

I love you.

I never told him that. I strain my memory as I trace the outlines of the object in my hands. It is his, the only thing we took off his body. I never told him I loved him, or at least I thought I did. I don't know. I never knew love, can't remember anyone-except him-admitting to loving me, liking me, even caring about me as a person instead of a soldier. I lived for him, and I would have died for him. Did I love him?

He didn't think so. He wrote that in his note. He left us a note, explaining. How kind. He said that he loved me, but not the way I loved him. He said he wanted something that I couldn't give him and he couldn't live without. So he died.

All he ever wanted was an "I love you."

I couldn't even give him three little words. Two in Japanese. One in Klingon1. I tried to tell him. Through sex. That's what killed him.

He felt loved, when I made love to him. And he loved me too much to say no. And then he felt like a whore. That's what killed him. I never even guessed.

There were so many things I never knew, never guessed. I never knew how much he loved it when I brushed his hair. I think I did it all of twice. I never knew he promised Solo that he'd never sleep with anyone for any reason other than love. I never knew, and I still don't, why he wouldn't cut his hair, why he wore a priest's collar, who Solo was, or why he never lied or cried.

I knew more about his Gundam than I did about him.

And I knew him better than anyone. I knew when he was having a nightmare before he did. I knew that his favorite food was gumpke2, because it was so full of healthy things that he usually lacked on L-2, and you can make it from garbage. I knew that he somehow got to Confession and Communion every Saturday and Sunday. I knew where he was ticklish, and where he wouldn't feel it if you shot him, the scar tissue was so deep.

He trusted me with knowledge I cannot even share with myself, things done to him that I could not even conceive of before he told me. Things I cannot even think of without feeling sick.

He trusted me and I betrayed him.

I was not the first, but I was the last and the worst.

I look at what I hold. I have one last thing to do, one last thing to say. "Ai shiteru, Duo."

I pull the trigger of my lover's gun.

I wake up, sweating but cold. I look over to the left, half-no, wholly- afraid of what I will find. I see Duo, asleep, looking sweet and innocent, no hint of bad dreams, first time in how long?, some corner of my mind asks. I don't want to wake him up, but this is important. "Duo," I whisper in his ear, "wake up." He doesn't wake, so I try a different tactic. "Duo, wake up. I have pancakes." This wakes him up better than anything. Well, there are quicker ways, but all of them result in a ready-to-fight Duo.

"Wha?" he says, confused and half-asleep.

"Do you know I love you?" I ask. He must hear something in my tone, or my question, both are completely unlike me.

He nods. "Yes," he says, in case I miss the nod.

"How?" I ask. He cannot, no, will not, lie to me. I hope. And I know whatever he says I will believe.

I watch his face as it goes from 'Heero's-insane-but-I'll-humor-him-because-I-love-him' to 'Heero's- insane-and-I'll-humor-him-so-he-doesn't-hurt-me,' passing 'Heero's-kidding-right?' on the way. Then it metamorphosizes into 'Heero-is-insane-and-I'll-play-his-game-so-he'll-let-me-go-back-to-sleep' and finally settles on a rare 'Oh-shit-this-is-serious' expression. He thinks for a second, choosing his words carefully. "Because you didn't shoot me."

"Have I ever told you 'I love you'?" I demand, meaning not in the past two minutes. "Not implied it, not said it with other words, just 'I love you'?" He's definitely wondering who I am and what I did with the real Heero now.

He thinks, starts to say something, stops, thinks some more. I'm so cruel, making him examine our relationship at two in the morning, less than an hour after we returned from a mission. "No," he says, and I nod, surprising him.

"I didn't think so." I want to tell him more, so much more, but it really is not the time for it and he needs to sleep. "Ai shiteru, Duo."

"Love ya too, Heero," he says sleepliy. He closes his eyes and I wrap my arms about him. I kiss him goodnight, but he is already asleep.

I tell him that I love him the next morning. And the next night. And every morning and every night, and every time in between.

~owari~

End Notes:

[1] This is true. It has been suggested that what the word actually means is "Get into my bed right now, wench!"

[2] This is a Polish dish that is very healthy. It is also propotionally disgusting.

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